Pizza, Can I Have Some More?
by Milareppa
Summary: Either Winston and Peter don't know Egon and Ray as well as they thought they did, or there's something else going on. The question is do they really want to know?


**Rating:** Rating chosen due to suggestive content and imagery.  
**Setting:** Series 2, 'The Devil in the Deep.'

* * *

**Pizza, Can I Have Some More?**

The Ghostbusters led a bizarre life, of that, there was no doubt. It wasn't every man who had a job that required the ability to dodge flying slime; lasso insubstantial, unclassifiable creatures with a rope made of positively charged ions; or survive unexpected, and usually undesired, side trips into transdimensional realities without getting travel sick.

It was a wonder any of them were still sane.

Although, Winston reflected, when it came to the Ghostbusters, that word might have had a negotiable definition.

Sunday, April 1st, 1984, for example, was a case in point.

His first mistake had been getting out of bed.

His second, had been picking up a copy of the _New York Times._

His third, had been reading it.

His fourth, had been to take the ad for a fourth Ghostbuster seriously.

His fifth, had been to phone the headquarters to leave a message regarding a possible interview.

His sixth, had been to not question why they were able to arrange an interview for the same day he'd initially contacted them. _On a Sunday._

His seventh, had been to accept the job after being hired without a second glance. Interview? What interview?

His eighth, had been to not have noticed the date on which this entire debacle had occurred.

Eight mistakes within space of six hours.

It had _not_ been the sanest day of his life.

And it had all led to this point. The point where he was standing, frozen in mid-step, half-way up the stairs to third floor, staring open-mouthed at his companion, and pleading with speechless eyes that he was _not_ hearing the conversation that his ears were, in fact, insisting was occurring just out of view above him.

"I don't know, Egon," Ray's voice floated down from the main bathroom. He seemed quite upset. "It looks wedged tight to me."

"Honestly, Ray," Egon's voice, on the other hand, sounded strained with effort. "I'm amazed you can see anything from that position."

There was a grunt. Winston glanced at Peter, who was standing beside him, still as a statue. The psychologist glanced back at him, denial on his face. Ray sounded like he was in pain and yet neither man could bring himself rush up the remainder of the stairs to find out how badly injured the engineer was.

They were too afraid.

Despite his woe, Ray was rallying valiantly. "Egon, really," he lectured. "You understand the physics of my decision better than that. You know how important good balance and a firm grip is in these situations."

Peter swallowed slowly. "In these situations?" he nervously mouthed to Winston.

The mechanic shrugged helplessly. He didn't want to know how many of "these situations" Ray and Egon had a tendency to find themselves in. And he didn't appreciate Peter for making him suddenly curious about the answer to that question.

"Yes, yes," Egon's patience seemed to be wearing thin. "Of course, I understand. My point is, Ray, that as much as I appreciate your enthusiasm on this occasion, it _is_ now the reason for your current plight."

"Well, gosh, Egon. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You didn't have any problems with it. It's not like we haven't done this sort of thing before now, is it?"

"They've done this before!" Peter squeaked. Winston clamped a hand over the psychologist's mouth and they both listened in frantic silence for any sign that they'd been overheard.

"On the whole, Ray, it _is_ rather embarrassing," Egon was in the process of confessing. "You'd think, given our experience, we wouldn't have had any trouble this time. A valuable lesson in the importance of paying attention at the crucial moment."

"That's great, Egon," the engineer growled. "While you work on that learning curve, I'm the one who's bleeding like a stuck pig."

It was Winston's turn to swallow before he found the courage to speak. "Do you think we should see if he's really in trouble?" His voice was barely above a whisper. He couldn't bring himself to alert the distracted pair in the bathroom to his presence in the stairwell.

A look of panic flitted across Peter's features and he gestured the most emphatic "Hell, no!" that Winston had ever seen. Winston glanced down the stairs to the second floor. To the second floor and sanity. "They're showing reruns of 'I Love Lucy' on the box," he suggested in the same soft tone.

"Excellent plan," Peter's eyes lit up with relief. "Laughter heals the soul and all that jazz."

"Then let's go take some medicine," Winston muttered, turning to discretely creep back down to the rec room.

A soft groan escaped Ray at that moment, freezing the desperate fugitives before they had navigated a single step. "You know, maybe we should give Janine a yell," the normally effusive engineer was starting sound worried.

"No! Absolutely not!" If Ray was beginning to sound worried, then the idea of summoning the secretary made Egon sound positively frightened.

"Well, gee, Egon. It's either that or wait for the guys to come back. What do you think'll happen if _they_ walk in on us like this?"

There was silence for a moment, before Egon spoke again, his voice soft, the emotion behind it hard to pin down. "If Janine walks in on this..." he trailed off. "She won't understand, Ray. You _know_ she won't understand."

There was another silence, during which time Peter and Winston studiously avoided looking at each other. They really should get off these stairs, Winston thought to himself. They'd heard too much already. But he couldn't make himself move. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter's muscles tense up and then relax. The psychologist was having the same argument with himself. He too was failing.

"You're right," Ray sighed at last. "She'd never tolerate this. What're we gonna do, Egon? We can't stay like this until the guys come home. Can you imagine what Peter'd say? He'd take it worse than Janine."

Peter squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if trying to block out the world. From the agony on his face, however, Winston was fairly certain he wasn't having any luck.

And still they didn't move.

"Hm," Egon said suddenly. "Speaking of Janine, I believe these are her tweezers. Hold on, Ray. Let me see if I can reach them."

"Holding on, Egon," muttered Ray, his sarcastic tone suggesting he wasn't able to do anything else.

Something crashed in the bathroom, and shattered. The unfortunate pair on the stairs flinched and Ray gasped. "Watch it, Egon. I don't want a concussion to go with the rest of it!"

"I'm sorry, Ray," Egon replied contritely, and slightly out of breath. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"More than you already have, anyway."

Winston bit back a groan and wished he hadn't heard Ray's muttered outburst. He was going to have nightmares for a month after this.

"I've got them," Egon exclaimed in triumph. "What do you think?"

There was a pause in which Winston and Peter could only imagine what was happening before Ray responded, sounding more enthusiastic. "Yeah, they're a nice size, Egon. I think they could work."

"Oh no..." Peter whispered, his face leaching of all colour.

"All I need to do is insert them at the right angle..." there was focused concentration in Egon's tone. "Apply the correct amount of pressure..."

"Will you watch where you're poking that thing!" Ray exploded suddenly.

Egon's only response was a grunt of effort, and that finally galvanised Winston out of his stupor. He grabbed Peter by the arm and bodily hauled him down the stairs. "We've heard enough, Peter," he hissed in his friend's ear. "Enough!"

"Enough?" Peter mumbled, dazed. "Zed, we've heard entirely too much!"

"You got that right, flyboy," Winston muttered.

Forget a month, he decided in despair.

Better make it a _year_.

* * *

The bathroom was a mess. Spanners, screwdrivers, wrenches, all lay scattered around the floor. The shower curtain was tossed in a heap behind the door, and even the bath was leaning against a wall, instead of attached in its proper place to the floor. A smashed soap dish added to the list of hazards in the room, which had been stripped to expose the plumbing.

The liquid splashed across the floor, oozing down the walls and dripping off the ceiling was not water.

It was green and it was red. It looked like a bizarre mixture of slime and tomato sauce.

That wasn't too far from the truth.

Digging around in the exposed pipes with all the finesse of a trained surgeon, Egon shoved his glasses up on his nose and frowned as he carefully eased Ray's finger out of its unusual prison with the tweezers he had located on the shelf. Despite his effort to make sure the old metal didn't lacerate the engineer's skin any worse than it already had been, Ray still gave a sharp yell of pain as his hand was finally freed.

The physicist peered into the depths of the offending pipe curiously. "You know, Ray, I think your blood has acted as a lubricant. I believe it's actually dislodged enough for me to reach it now."

Ray grunted, as he wrapped his injured finger into a flannel to stem the blood-flow. "Glad I could help," he muttered. "Any idea what 'it' is yet?"

"Not yet." Frowning in concentration, Egon carefully eased the tweezers back into the pipe and began to tease the mystery object to the surface.

Ray glanced at the small wall clock. "I can't believe it's taken us two hours to unblock the shower, Egon."

Egon sighed but he didn't look up from his work. "I promised Janine it would take twenty minutes at most."

"Twenty minutes?" Ray thought about the heat wave they were currently experiencing. "That woman'll skin us alive," then he remembered something and smirked. "Unless, of course, she decides you prolonged the torture because you get a secret thrill out of seeing her parading around the firehouse in that bikini."

He watched in amusement as the apparently focused physicist's hand trembled slightly. Metal clattered against metal. "Ah, nuts," Egon muttered, digging around in the pipe with his long fingers to try and reach the tweezers he had dropped.

"Of course, we know you don't get a secret thrill out of it at all," Ray continued blandly, as if he hadn't noticed.

He also pretended to ignore the glare Egon threw him.

"Hm," Egon returned his attention to the pipe with a frown. "Whatever this object is, it's soft. The tweezers appear to have become embedded within it."

"Really?" Ray leaned forward curiously so he could see as well. "Can you get it out?"

"I don't--" With an effort, Egon's fingertips brushed the top of the tweezers and managed to grab hold. "Yes! Yes, I think I've got it."

"That's great," Ray smiled in relief. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you - I managed to find out why he did this."

"You did? What happened?" Egon looked as though he was finally beginning to win the battle of wits he was having with the tweezers.

Ray sighed. "Peter happened. What else?"

"I don't understand," Egon finally retrieved the object that had caused so much strife and was examining it, a slightly baffled expression on his face. "What on earth could Peter say that would make Slimer block up the plumbing with a pizza?"

"According to Janine, Slimer was yelling about that place Peter earned us a year's supply of discount pizza from, and Peter got fed up with the noise. 'Pipe it, green guts, or you'll get a one-way ticket to the containment unit,' I believe was the exact quote." He sighed again. "I guess I'm going to have to teach the spud not to take things quite so literally."

"To be honest, Ray, I think Slimer's inability to recognise slang is the least of our concerns," Egon replied gravely.

"Why's that?"

Egon held up the tweezers. For the first time, Ray got a good look at the culprit that had denied Janine her shower.

His face paled.

"You mean--" he began with a gasp.

Egon nodded solemnly. "Peter's shackled us to the only place in New York that thinks gherkins make a great pizza topping."

"For a year?"

"Yes, Ray. A whole year."

They both stared at the soggy mass that was beginning to ooze around the ends of the tweezers in Egon's hand.

Ray shook his head with a sigh. "An insane water demon in the East River? A year's supply of gherkin-topped pizzas? A pet ghost that blocks up the showers in the middle of a heat wave? This place sure isn't boring, I'll give it that."

"On the bright side, Ray," Egon replied ruefully. "It doesn't get any lower than a gherkin-flavoured pizza."

Ray smiled. Egon was right. There was really no way things could possibly get any worse.

FIN.

* * *

**RGBFanfic April '07 Noun Challenge:**  
**Person(s):** Egon and Ray.  
**Location:** Bathroom.  
**Object:** Tweezers. 


End file.
